Harriet Potter and The Family of Pretenders
by FMA-Fangirl33
Summary: "Do you know the feeling of your life shattering around you?" Someone once asked. If asked, Harriet Potter would say that she understood the feeling pretty well. After all, her life had been nothing but a long string of lies and half-truths. -COMPLETE SUMMARY INSIDE THE FIC-
1. Prologue - Shatter

**Summary:**_"Do you know the feeling of your life shattering around you?" Someone once asked._

_If asked, Harriet Potter would say that she understood the feeling pretty well. After all, her life had been nothing but a long string of lies and half-truths. She had never been allowed to even try and stop the truth from being lost amidst a sea of deception and deceit. Well... up until her tenth birthday at least._

_Harriet only wishes that the truth had been uncovered sooner._

_(DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING!)_

_Female!Slytherin!Harry_

_WBWL Fic!_

* * *

"_Do you know the feeling of your life shattering around you?"_ Someone once asked.

If asked, Harriet Potter would say that she understood the feeling pretty well. After all, her life had been nothing but a long string of lies and half-truths. She had never been allowed to even try and stop the truth from being lost amidst a sea of deception and deceit. Well… up until her tenth birthday at least.

Harriet Potter was taught to never question anything her blessed '_caregivers'_ said. She was taught to bite her tongue and be polite even when it was impossible. She was taught to grin and bear it no matter what. And… She was taught to keep her head down and be inconspicuous.

Because that is what it takes to survive. That is what it takes to have a roof above her head. That is what it takes to avoid a beating on the hands of her uncle.

By the time she was six, she was quite adept at following those rules.

However.

By the time she was 10, all those rules meant _nothing._

She supposes it all started when aunt Petunia said that maintaining her hair was, 'too much unnecessary work' and decided that cutting it off was the way to go. Obviously, by 'cutting it off' her aunt had meant 'grab a pair of scissors and attempt to shave her to the skull while viscously pulling at her hair'.

"Oh stop it you little freak!", Petunia had snarled, attempting to both restrain her niece and commit her act of cruelty at the same time, "If you remain still, it will be over soon!"

When Petunia was done she had shoved the crying and trembling Harriet to the ground and stood up, dusting her hands while smirking cruelly, "There, it wasn't so difficult was it?" She sauntered off past the crying child, "It would have certainly hurt less if you had remained still," No it wouldn't have and Petunia knew it, "Clean that up before Vernon comes or you'll be locked in the cupboard for a week!"

Harriet remembers pitifully sobbing as she picked up the remains of her once luscious locks.

Harriet remembers crying herself to sleep that night.

Harriet remembers the feeling of despair and _pure unadulterated __hatred_ flowing through her body.

Most of all.

Harriet remembers feeling _empty_. She remembers the feeling of icy coldness take over her body and then nothing more.

_But._

When she woke up, a miracle had happened over night.

Her hair had regrown. It went from there barely being any locks left in her skull, to a complete head full of unruly bed hair.

That time, she had cried in joy.

She didn't know why, but her aunt refused to come near her after that incident. Heck, she didn't even give her any chores (which was nice for once-). Even Uncle Vernon stayed away from her, and in all honesty, at the time, it had been almost a blessing.

_(Looking back at the moment now, made Harriet realize that, that was the point from which her life started to get more and more…. __Complicated__.)_

The very next day they had 'visitors'.

And on that fateful day of August 3rd, 1990 Harriet's life was flipped upside down. I mean, it was only natural. After all, it's not everyday that you get to discover the fact that your _parents are alive._

_It's not everyday that you discover that you, apparently, have an identical twin brother who's been put on a pedestal while you've had to endure a life of hardships and never ending pain._

_And, it's not everyday that you get your entire life torn apart __**at the seams. **__It's not every-bloody-day that you realize that everything you've went through had been nothing but a cruel, sick joke played on you by __**fate.**_

And for _**what? **_'**Not **being a witch?'.

In the end…

In the end… Her life had been nothing but a lie. _Everything_ was a lie. Everything was a _filthy, piss-poor __**fucking Lie.**_

And then Harriet Potter _(Was her name a lie too or __**what**__?)_ couldn't help but comment snidely inside the expanse of her own mind as everything was revealed at once:

'So... This is what your life shattering around you felt like…'

Harriet was gently stroking her child's platinum blond hair as she thought of everything that led to her life as it is now. As she slowly pondered old memories, happy and sad, she couldn't help but smile as her 2 months old baby yawned and stretched slightly before snuggling farther into her chest. Honestly, how she managed to reproduce something this cute and so unabashedly pure was still beyond her.

She continued to watch her baby as he slept, too caught up in her thoughts to notice the door of the nursery opening. In fact, she didn't even realize someone had entered the room until she felt someone gently touch her shoulder while calling her name.

"Harry?" A familiar voice said.

Harry jumped slightly and turned her head to left, only to be met a pair of silver orbs, practically twinkling in concern.

She smiled in relief as she gently swayed the baby in her arms back and forth, "Oh, Draco," She murmured in relief, "You startled me dear."

"Sorry about that," Draco grinned sheepishly, "I just woke up to go to the loo, but I didn't find you, so…" The man shrugged helplessly as he ran a hand through platinum blond and dishevelled hair, "I got worried."

Harriet bit her lip in guilt. She didn't like to make her husband worry, she tried to avoid it on occasion, but she honestly couldn't help it.

"Sorry Dray," She sighed as he gently brought her to his chest careful not to wake the sleeping baby in her arms, "I just… couldn't sleep I guess and I wanted to clear my mind a bit."

Draco hummed understandingly, gently nuzzling her dark locks with his face as he breathed in deeply. The war had… taken its toll on both of them. He just couldn't help the feeling of unrestrained worry and fear that takes over his body whenever Harry wasn't within his sight. It was difficult, curbing those feelings whenever his wife was out alone, but he managed. Most of the time.

"Memories?" He asked, already knowing the answer, as he gently stroked the cheek of his sleeping son.

Harry sighed, "Memories." She mumbled tiredly.

Draco gently nodded, "I see. Is there anything I can do to ease your worries? Perhaps a cup of green tea? I've heard it helps with relaxation." He suggested idly.

Harriet chuckled gently, as she slowly started to move towards the crib at the corner of the room, "No, thank you Draco," She said smiling lightly as she cautiously set her son, Scorpius, into his crib, "My mind is all cleared up now. I don't think I will be able to stay awake long enough to drink the tea anyway." She straightened up, but continued to watch her baby as he rhythmically continued to draw in breath.

"I see," Draco mumbled absently as he went to stand next to his beloved, "Well then. As you wish." Unconsciously, he grabbed his wife's petite hands as they both continued gazing at their son.

It wasn't until a particularly cold breeze had blown into the room that the couple had decided to finally head back to their bedroom. After all, they had a big day tomorrow.


	2. Enter Harriet Potter

_**August 3rd, 1990 **_

_**1:25 PM**_

_**~Diagon Alley~**_

Harriet stared at the ice cream bowl set in front of her blankly. It hadn't been that long since she had discovered that her parents didn't die. In fact, she actually has a twin brother as well.

Her parents(?) were seated in front of her, watching her worriedly as her twin brother, Henry, ate his ice cream seemingly oblivious to the current tense atmosphere.

Harriet struggled to process everything that has been revealed to her so far in the day. Heck she couldn't even begin to comprehend all the negative emotions she was currently feeling. The turmoil inside her just didn't seem to be settling down any time soon.

It would be a gross understatement to say that Harriet Potter was pissed.

She couldn't help but be angry. Heck, _angry_ didn't even begin to describe the icy cold feeling of resentment in her chest!

Her parents thought she was a squib, which means a person from a family of magicals yet possesses no magic, and **that, ****apparently,** _**that was a good reason to abandon her to a family of physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive muggles who just happen to be her relatives. **_

_**What a joke!**_

They decided it was alright to abandon a child because they weren't up to their pisspoor, and filthy, standards. They decided it was alright to make a child's life, their own child no less, miserable by making them think they were an _**orphan **_who had nobody but a bunch of **abusive relatives.** They cast away a _**child **_because said child was not as _important _or _amazing _as the **boy-who-lived. **

And it **hurt.**

Cause deep down, there's still a part of her that yearns for a parent's warm touch. A part that hopes to be loved. A part that desperately wants safety and security.

Deep down, a part of her was still just a child. A child who has been so severely hurt by the deeds of man and the world that it decided to go into seclusion within the deepest recesses of Harriet's mind.

But the fact still remains. Harriet Potter was _no longer a __**child. **__Harriet Potter_, poor, meek, little just Harriet, **died** the moment her uncle first raised his hand on her. She died and _died and __**died and kept on **__**dying**_ _**until the moment her parents revealed themselves to be alive.**_

_**The moment their sweet little lie unfurled. **_

And she hated that. _She hated them. _She hated that all the pain she had to endure was just because her parents thought that she wasn't good enough. That she was never going to be good enough.

Well, newsflash, she was _not _going to be taking this bullshit sitting down anymore. She will prove just how wrong they were to discard her like a piece of trash.

And so with all of this on her mind, Harriet Potter, not _Harriet Potter (meek-poor-__**just Harriet**__)_, spoke for the first time that evening.

"So… Am I going back?" She said, her voice as cold as a tundra. She raised her eyes from her plate and gazed unflinchingly at her ''_concerned'' _and _'oh-so-worried' _parents. **Liars**.

Lily and James shared an uncertain look before they looked back at their (_**forgotten) **_daughter. They gave her a feeble smile that was surprisingly convincing. Convincing, but fake.

After all, having lived and dealt with relatives who were every bit as good at pretending as the Potters, Harriet become sort of… well let's say _observant_. It was something that she had learned through watching the Dursleys interact with people, be them neighbors, salesmen at the door, or _important people from_ _Uncle Vernon's equally important 'job'_.

At first, it was kinda… fascinating, watching all those adults, all those _people_, tip-toe around each other as they kept on constructing convincing lies and half-truths in an attempt at fooling each other.

It soon grew more and more…. _Fun_, as she began to learn the fundamentals of 'The Game'. Soon Harriet began to move on from observing how people told and constructed their lies _(everything had a bit of the truth in it) _to spindling her own web of lies that were actually half-truths.

At first, she had been clumsy, unable to lie without stammering, which was paid for through extra chores and fewer meals, until eventually, she began to get better and better. All it took was watching people detect their tells and desperately attempt to hide them from the person whom they had been lying to for her to learn.

Everyone had a tell. _Everyone. _Yes, even her. Most people just knew how to efficiently hide their tells to the point where they became almost non-existent. In fact, some people guard their tells with vehemence that you'd find in someone guarding something valuable. They play their cards so close to their chests that it must be painful every time they talk or interact with others _**(and themselves)**_.

Other people, on the other hand, wear their tells, or their hearts as most people would say, on their sleeves. Those kind of people make Harriet think almost 99.9% of the time unless said person is endearing enough, _'pathetic'_.

The Potters were the former category of course. Well, not her _twin brother_ at least. From what she's seen so far of the boy, he's some cross between the two types of people.

She didn't interact nearly enough with him to be able to correctly tell though. For all she knows, he could be just pretending as well. Who knew?

It was only when she felt someone lightly touch her shoulder that Harriet was dragged away fro the blaze of her raging thoughts. She flinched a bit violently, as though to get away, and the person who had touched her immediately drew their hand back as if they got burned.

It took Harry a moment or two of complete panic for her to realize that, 1) The person that touched her didn't mean harm to her, and 2) That the mystery person was Lily Potter. Her _mother._

Said _mother _was currently gazing at her with a mild expression of hurt, shock, and horror. It was as if the woman was hurt by Harriet's reaction to her touch.

'_Oh... Poor, dear, Mrs. Potter,'_ Harriet thought sarcastically, in disdain, '_How dare I insinuate that she was anything but a good parent to her child."_

Clearing her throat pointedly, if a bit awkwardly, to banish her negative thoughts, Harriet began to speak in hopes of diverting the woman's attention away from what had just transpired, "Excuse me, I was lost in thought," She said smoothly absentmindedly stirring the almost completely melted ice cream in her bowl,, "You wouldn't terribly mind repeating what you said, would you _Mrs. Potter_."

Lily flinched, looking visibly stricken by Harriet's blatant use of her name, "Honey, you know you can call me _'mum' _right?" The woman said in a tight voice.

Harriet just stared at her levelly, "I don't think so Mrs. Potter." She said in a controlled tone of voice, not even batting an eye at her birth-giver's devastated state, "As far as I know, a mother is someone that cares for their child. Someone who wouldn't, y'know, **abandon them.**"

Lily looked as though someone slapped her.

James, seeing his wife's distress, decided to placate his daughter, "Harriet, honey, we do care about you." He said in a gentle tone of voice.

Harriet turned to him and James was startled to realize just how _green _Harriet's eyes truly were, "Your lack of contact with me for the last 10 year says otherwise." She said in a 'matter-of-fact' tone.

James looked as though he'd sucked a lemon. She had a point and he knew it.

Quickly composing herself, Lily spoke again, "Honey, we really did try to get in contact with you. We even checked on you from time to time when you were young. Most of the time, Petunia didn't let us enter the house saying that you were fine and perfectly happy and content to be with them." Lily paused for a bit, composing herself again, and Harriet almost snorted.

Taking a deep breath, Lily continued, "We even kept charms on the house so we could know when you displayed accidental magic. But as your brother grew, it became harder and harder to check in with the Dursleys and we completely lost contact by the time you were seven." Lily shrugged sadly, "We honestly did all we could considering the circumstances."

Harriet just kept staring at them. So they kept charms on the house and not on her. No wonder they never came to take her earlier. She remembers a time when she was six, when the teacher attempted to humiliate her in front of the class because Dudley had said that she cheated from him on the last quiz and that was why she got such a good mark.

Because _Dudley Dursley_ was a _good student_ and Harriet Potter was just another cockroach in a classroom full of children and 'respectable people'.

_Idiots._

Of course, the teacher in all her glory, had decided to 'expose' Harriet in front of the whole class and to 'make an example out of her so that people will know that cheating is bad and not follow her lead'.

Strangely enough, the teacher's hair turned blue a minute into her tirade. Harriet got detention that day, but she couldn't curb the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that plagued her for the rest of the week, even as her uncle locked her in the cupboard with no dinner.

Another instance, was during 3rd grade when Dudley and his gang had been playing 'Harry Hunting' during recess. Apparently, they never learned how to pronounce more than one syllable of her name, which was almost offending had it not been Dudley and his gang of hoodlums. Anyway, as she was running Harriet felt a strange pull, as though she was being squeezed hrough a really narrow tube, before she appeared on top of the school's roof. One second she had been running, the other she had just appeared on the top of the school's roof. If that was not magic then she didn't know what is.

Of course, she had gotten in trouble for 'climbing on the walls of the school'. Her uncle had decided a beating was the way to go for that incident.

And so, Harriet kept on staring at her supposed 'family'. The same people who kept on defending themselves, saying they _tried_.

Well. They didn't try nearly hard enough.

"Well," Harriet drawled, carefully inspecting the two hopeful adults sitting across from her, "Enough of that for now, you still didn't answer my earlier question. Do I have to go back?"

The two adults looked puzzled, "Go back where?" Asked James.

Harriet scoffed, "To the Dursleys of course. Do I have to go back?"

Lily bit her lip, "Well, not unless you want to," she shrugged, "Honestly, we did not know who you'd want to live with after everything was said and done, so we left you the freedom of choice."

Harriet hm'ed, "I see then. Well, if it's _possible_ I'd rather not go back to the Dursleys."

James and Lily shared another look, "Harriet, dear," started Lily slowly, "It's not like we object or anything, but may we ask why?"

Harriet barked a sarcastic laugh, "Why?" She said mirth dancing in her eyes. It was as if she was told a really funny joke, "Why not?" She looked at really and _smiled_. It was slow and predatory.

"Your dear relatives _mother_," Lily flinched at the verbal jab as Harriet started to count on her fingers, "Locked me in a dark, dinky, filthy boot cupboard under the stairs, made me think my name was 'Freak' until I was five and had to go to Kindergarten, forced me to cook for them at the age of 4, would beat me if I did anything 'freakish' or outscored their 'precious Duddy-kins', used me as their own personal slave whom they kept 'from the goodness of their hearts'," She looked at the two horrified adults and her smile slowly dropped into a sneer, "Need I go on? 'Cause I have a thousand more examples to use."

Needless to say, Harriet never saw the Dursleys again. At least, not for a long period of time.

_**August 3rd, 1990**_

_**6:30 AM**_

_**~Potter Manor~**_

As angry at her parents as Harriet was she couldn't help but admit that the bed in her new bedroom _**(first bedroom in fact) **_was so comfy. '_But then again,' _Harriet thought snidely, '_It's not like I was even allowed to_ _**touch **__a bed before today,'._

Yeah… You could just _taste_ the bitterness in her words.

Just as Harriet was about to start changing into the new clothes that her _father_ felt obligated to buy when he realized that she had no clothes of her own, a hesitant knock sounded at the door.

Harriet raised an eyebrow and went to open the door, wondering along the way, just which member from her _family _might be knocking on the door.

When she opened the door, Harriet was met with the sight of a meek and nervous boy. Upon closer inspection she realized that said boy was her younger twin, Henry.

"Oh… Henry," Harriet muttered letting just a hint of disdain creep into her voice, and judging by his wince, the younger boy detected it.

"U-Um hello, hello, um c-can I come in? I want to talk." Henry stammered, absentmindedly fiddling with his muggle cotton shirt as he desperately avoided eye contact with his older twin.

_'Nervous_,_'_ Harriet observed.

Slowly, and without taking her eyes off of the anxious boy, she fully opened her door and allowed him entrance.

Harriet cautiously moved to her bed, stiffly sitting down on it as she waited for her twin brother to talk.

After a minute or so of silence Harriet finally snapped.

"Alright, out with it!" She snapped a bit irritably, "What do you want?"

The boy startled slightly, not expecting her to be the first to speak. He slowly took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he began speaking.

"I-" He took another deep breath, "I-I'm sorry!" He finally burst out.

Harriet blinked, her mind short circuiting as she tried to process what she has heard.

"What?" She said instead thoroughly confused.

"I'm sorry," the boy looked down, "For everything you had to go through. I know it's not enough but," the boy shrugged a bit helplessly, "I dunno, I thought it might help."

Harriet blinked again, looking even more surprised and shocked. He was… apologizing?

"And… why are _you_ apologizing for something… our parents.. did?" She asked, puzzled although it took some time for her to gather her thoughts.

Henry shrugged again, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head, "I dunno, I mean… it's kinda my fault too y'know… if it wasn't for me being the Boy-who-lived maybe you'd have lived with us and not with those mean muggles. So, I'm sorry for everything I guess."

Harriet looked at the boy in front her, truly seeing him for the first time. She had, of course, been planning to resent her twin brother for being the child whom her parents chose but now…. It seems that she was reevaluating her views on the Boy-who-lived.

So with that thought in mind, Harriet looked, truly _looked, _at the boy in front of her and felt her lips twitch.

"I see then," Harriet said in a monotone voice, "Well then, seeing as you were so gracious with your apology, I have no choice but to accept it." And with that Harriet extended her hand, "Nice to meet you. My name is Harriet. Harriet Potter."

Henry gave her a 1000 megawatt grin before he took her hand and shook it firmly, "And my name is Henry. Henry Potter?" He let out an excited laugh before he looked confused, "By the way, what does gracious mean?"

And for the first time in years, Harriet Potter threw her head back and _laughed_.

_**September 30, 1990**_

_**11:50 PM**_

_**~Potter Manor~**_

Harriet Potter was grumpy. It had been almost two months since she had left the Dursleys '_nice care'_, and yet she _still _wasn't over their treatment of her.

She still flinches from loud and sudden sounds because they remind her of Uncle Vernon's yelling, she still cowers whenever someone raises their hand, and she still can't have eye-contact with _anyone_.

Not even her twin brother, whom she had warmed up to, who has gotten accustomed to calling her _'Harry' _much to her amusement and confusion.

And worst of all? She can just _feel _the _**pity**_ her parents direct at her. She didn't want _pity_ dammit! She just wants her parents to act as though everything was normal, to at least give her a semblance of normalcy.

But no. She was stuck with people who don't understand her and never will understand her. It was honestly irritating.

Oh well, at least Henry doesn't comment on it.

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**12:30 PM**_

_**~Diagon Alley~**_

It was August 1st, 1991. Almost a whole year had passed ever since Harriet had been whisked away from the Dursleys, ever since her life had fallen apart in front her.

The year she had spent with the Potters bad been, surprisingly, uneventful. She still didn't get along with her parents that's for sure, but her bitterness towards them decreased significantly.

She might actually be starting to warm up to the Potters.

Henry, on the other hand, had been nothing but an absolute sweetheart! He was able to be mature when he wanted to be, but on the whole he was… well, sort of childish. In a good way.

It honestly made Harriet feel like a child again, which was kind of nice.

He still didn't stop calling her _'Harry' _though, and when she had asked him about it the boy responded with:

_'Well, it's a nickname! Your name is nice and all, but a good ol' nickname never hurts anyone amiright?' _The Boy-who-lived had said with a cheesy grin and a wink that made Harriet roll her eyes. She was smiling nonetheless.

And by the boy's logic it was supposed to be spelled as 'Harri' and not _'Harry'_, but for some reason Harriet found herself more drawn to the latter of the two names.

For reasons unknown to her, of course.

Anyway, today was the day where all Hogwarts students go shopping for their items. Currently, Harriet was being fitted for her robes at Madam Malkin's shop, and being fitted right next to her was a boy with platinum blond hair and eyes the color of beautiful silver.


	3. Enter Draco Malfoy

_**August 1st**_

_**8:25 AM**_

_**~Malfoy Manor~**_

It was just after breakfast in Malfoy Manor, and the youngest member of the family was strewn across his bed, thinking of various memories and moments of his life.

Soon enough, the young boy would be going to Diagon Alley with his parents to get his school equipment. He was especially excited about getting his wand!

Nonetheless, Draco Malfoy always considered himself a fortunate boy. He had money, he had reputation, and he had a relatively warm relationship with his parents. Not as warm as it should be but still warm enough… For a family made of _Pureblooded Slytherins_ that is.

He fully acknowledges the fact that other people are not quite as... lucky, as he is. He understood that many people actually are quite the opposite. Nevertheless, his parents always warned him against _that_ sort of people. They were absolutely filthy and disgusting- almost as bad as _muggles_! At least…. _That's what his parents said._

I mean they are his parents so what they said must be true! Right?

But… It didn't _feel _right.

As much as he wanted to blindly believe his parents' words, as much as he wanted to not question them, something inside him kept on refusing that notion. Something inside him kept on insisting that just because someone was not of their status, that does in no way mean that they were lesser.

_Unfortunately_ for _him_, Draco was a curious boy who was quite vocal about his opinions and never hesitated to voice them.

After all, _confidence_, as his father called it, was a Malfoy family trait, and so, the heir to such an Ancient and Noble House should _never_ hesitate in making his thoughts known.

That was when Draco's view of his parents began to shift.

_**May 20th, 1989**_

_**1:15 PM**_

_**~Malfoy Manor~**_

The Malfoy family was enjoying a relatively quiet lunch. Lucuis Malfoy, the patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy who was also known as the current Lord Malfoy, was sitting at one end of an extremely long dining table while Narcissa Malfoy (née Black), previously of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black and also known as the current Lady Malfoy (or Mrs. Malfoy as she insists to be called), sat at the other end of the table, parallel to her husband. Their son, Draco, was sitting exactly in the middle between both of his parents.

Draco had been pondering over this for weeks. He didn't quite understand the animosity his parents held for poor people or muggles.

However, he wanted to understand, as it was in his nature, and he was taught to never fear voicing his thoughts. After all, confidence was the mark of an intelligent Malfoy man or so his father had said anyway…

Quietly slurping his pumpkin soup, the boy grimaced. He really hoped his father wouldn't go off on him for this. After all, from the way his parents had talked to him about the issue, and all the subtle warnings his father had left for him to analyze, made it seem that even quietly inquiring about the reason for their animosity towards muggles was a taboo inside the 'House of Malfoy'.

'The Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy,' Draco internally corrected himself. It wouldn't do for the heir of such an Ancient and Noble family to not be able to correctly use the title of his house. His parents would be oh-so-disappointed in him, something which, to the soon-to-be 9 year old, was completely unacceptable.

"Draco," drawled a silky voice as the little boy jumped in his seat, "What have your mother and I told you about... fidgeting?" The owner of the voice narrowed his piercing silver eyes as he quietly admonished his child.

The boy gulped and firmly kept his eyes on his plate, "That it was-"

"Eye contact." Came the sharp reprimand.

Draco flinched and slowly raised his head to meet his father's eyes. Lucuis Malfoy's eyes were like molten silver as he gazed imperiously upon his offspring. The man, having finished his meal, rested his chin upon his intertwined fingers while giving the impression of utmost serenity.

The young child took a quiet, calming breath and forced his voice not to waver, "That it was unacceptable for the heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy to display such poor manners and self control." Draco said with false conviction.

His father hm'ed, inclining his head slowly as he continued examining his son. After a few moments, the man started to speak, "Well then, Draco, out with it." Lucuis straightened up and leaned back comfortably in his chair, "What is bothering you my son?" He asked with a curious tilt of his head, his voice warm and inviting.

Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

His father's eyes narrowed as the man's mouth twisted into a highly unpleasant sneer, "Well?"

Draco took a deep breath through his nose. Here goes.

"W-well father, I… I" Draco took another risky deep breath to ease his nerves. It didn't work.

"You _what_, Draco?" Came the sharp reprimand.

Draco shrank back a bit. Yeah... he'd be lucky to make it out of this conversation unscathed.

"I was.. Wondering about the reason for the animosity we hold for muggles-" He was cut off by a sudden, very loud noise of clanging cutlery.

He cast a very tentative look towards his father and, to his horror, his father's clenched fist lay atop the dining table, shaking with impotent fury. In fact his father's entire body was shaking with barely contained rage.

He cast a very quick glance at his mother. The lady was slowly drinking her pumpkin soup, acting as if nothing was going on around her. She never cast her offspring even one glance.

Looking back at his father, Draco finally mustered enough courage to look the man in the eye and nearly recoiled from what he saw. His father's eyes had gone cold in his anger and it was only _then _that Draco Malfoy realized the enormity of his bluff.

_**August 1st**_

_**8:27 AM**_

_**~Malfoy Manor~**_

Draco shivered slightly. The following two to three weeks were the worst _of his entire life_! _Not only_ did he get the worst dressing down ever, but his father had deemed it a suitable punishment to curse everything in his room, yes including his bed and bed sheets, to hit him with a strong stinging hex whenever he touched anything.

Even when he wasn't in his room, his father was sure to absentmindedly fire a stinging hex every five to ten minutes whenever he was within the man's presence.

Draco shuddered again before sighing. It was after that particular incident that Draco made sure to never anger his father or do anything the elder Malfoy frowned upon.

He didn't hate his father though. Afraid of the man? Yes. But he doesn't _hate_ him, it would be quite senseless to do so, after all everything his father is doing is for his own good! He deserved that punishment, no matter how harsh, and he got what he deserved and that was the end of that.

Suddenly Draco heard a loud 'pop!', which startled him from his thoughts, and a house elf appeared in his room.

"Oh," drawled Draco arrogantly, "Dobby. What do you want?"

The house elf cringed in on himself, a whole body cringe by the way, and Draco found himself almost feeling _sorry _for the creature before he remembered that if his father ever found out that he sympathizes with lower life forms there wouldn't be much left of him to feel sorry anymore, and ruthlessly crushed that lapse of internal sympathy.

"M-m-master Lu-Lu-Lucuis a-and Mis-Mistress N-narcisaa re-request your p-p-presence d-d-d-down stairs y-young M-master Draco." The house elf barely stuttered out as he bowed down so low that his nose touched the ground.

Draco sighed in irritation both at the pathetic creature and at the request. Just when he was organizing his thoughts.

"Alright," The boy snapped irritably, "Tell them I'll be there." He finished off quite rudely as he got up from bed and began straightening his robes into some form of presentaiblity.

The House Elf flinched pitifully before he nodded jerkily and vanished once more with a loud 'pop!'.

Draco sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**8:47 AM**_

_**~Malfoy Manor~**_

Draco walked carefully down the staircase. It took him over 5 minutes after he was called to fix his hair and clothes enough so that his parents won't hex him on sight. There were still _some _inconsistencies but nothing a little magic won't fix.

His parents were standing in the middle of the reception, looking as cold and proper as ever. Unconsciously, Draco found himself channeling some of their demeanor and adopting that same, haughty, prim-and-proper look.

"Good Morning Father, Mother," Draco started smoothly careful to greet his father first, _('The Lord of the House always comes first Draco'), _"You requested my presence?" He smiled a bit at them.

His mother smiled a bit warmly in return while his father's facial expression didn't change one bit.

"Good Morning Dragon, " She said in return, "We have indeed. We shall endeavor into Diagon Alley soon." She cast a quick tempus.

_'8:50' _The bright numbers read.

_'When had she drawn her wand?!' _Thought Draco incredulously but refrained from voicing his thoughts.

"Only ten minutes now," His father cut in smoothly.

Draco nodded, his face never betraying his excitement.

The ten minutes were spent in relative silence. The elder Malfoys were still standing, as calm and collected as ever, along with the younger(est) Malfoy, who was trying really hard NOT to fidget. (_'Malfoys don't __fidget__.')_

Finally, the time came and Draco silently sighed in relief. _'Finally.' _The boy thought happily.

His father went first, grabbing a generous handful of Floo Powder as he stepped into the fireplace. He called, powerfully and clearly, "DIAGON ALLEY!" as he threw the powder downwards. He got engulfed in a green gout of flames soon after.

His mother smiled slightly at him and went next, repeating the same process as his father and getting engulfed in similar green flames.

Draco took a moment to calm his nerves, before he proceeded forward. He didn't like Floo Travel but at least it was more bearable than Apparation or Portkey.

Repeating the same actions as his parents, Draco threw down the Floo Powder and got swallowed by the harmless green flames.

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**9:10 AM**_

_**~The Leaky Cauldron~**_

Draco stumbled out of the fireplace but managed to catch himself before he hit the floor. He took a moment to center himself before he groaned irritably. He really hated Floo travel.

His mother elegantly stepped forward, gently vanishing the layers of soot and grime that covered his hair and clothing with expert ease.

Draco looked at her gratefully, to which he got a tiny subtle nod, before he straightened up as she moved away.

His father had ignored the whole ordeal in favor of sneering in contempt at the place they were in.

'The Leaky Cauldron' was the only Floo point that led to Diagon Alley, much to the chagrin of the more wealthy Purebloods who felt that it was a great insult to have to pass through such a _common_ place in order to get their needs.

The Malfoys silently passed the barrier to Diagon Alley, not even giving the bartender, Old Tom, a second glance.

Draco let his self-control falter for a second as an excited grin overtook his face. He felt his father cuff his head in warning not soon after, and he let the mask of indifference firmly over his face once more.

"Emotions are weaknesses Draco," His father said as they firmly made their way through the crowd and to Flourish and Blotts, "And you never show your weaknesses."

"Yes, father." He intoned internally sighing.

This was going to be a long day indeed.

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**12:20 AM**_

_**~Diagon Alley~**_

Draco was barely lifting his feet off the ground. He was exhausted! Merlin, he must've been walking around Diagon Alley for over three hours collecting his school equipment - His books, a trunk, a new owl (whom he'd named Zeus), a pewter cauldron, a telescope, and who knows what else - it didn't help that the place was crowded as well. It seems that August 1st is the day where everyone goes out for their Hogwarts shopping and the boy silently resolved to go shopping earlier next year.

He was slowly heading towards his semi-final destination. _Madam Malkin's Robes_ _for All Occasions_ was looming just ahead. He had lost his parents somewhere in the crowd, but they had agreed that in the event of something like this happening that they'd meet at _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions _by 1:00 PM at the latest.

He silently, and nervously, walked through the doors of the shop and requested a full Hogwarts Wardrobe and immediately paid at the front desk _(His parents had given him a generous sum of 30 galleons in a Mokeskin pouch enchanted to be both weightless and larger on the inside in the case of an emergency)_ with a haughty attitude as the witches started getting his measurements for the new robes.

Ten minutes later and the measurements weren't done yet. Draco was about dying of boredom when his foggy mind perceived the sound of a bell ringing and a door opening.

_"Hogwarts, dear?" _He heard Madam Malkin's voice ask.

_"Yes, ma'am," _He heard a feminine, yet distinctly younger, voice reply.

_"Ooh such a respectful young lady,"_ Draco snorted softly, _"Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up now, in fact!"_

And in walked Madam Malkin with a rather short and skinny girl with messy black hair and emerald green eyes. The girl was wearing wire-rimmed circular glasses that covered the upper half of her face, but the most striking thing about her appearance, perhaps, was the lighting bolt shaped scar that went through her right eyebrow and covered about the entire right side of her head.

He must have been staring, _(His father would have a stroke if he ever knew that he'd openly __stared_ _at someone!) _because she turned to stare at him silently in question.

Quickly snapping out of his stupor, and gathering what remained of his dignity, Draco averted his eyes from the girl. He could still feel her stare at him for a few seconds before she looked away too.

However, the silence grew too oppressive and, despite having grown up in a similar environment, Draco found out that he could not bare it.

"Hullo," He said in a feeble attempt to strike a conversation, "Hogwarts too?"

_'Oh yeah really original,' _Thought Draco sarcastically to himself, _'What next? Are you going to ask if the sky is blue too?'_

"Yes," said the girl.

_'Oh alright, she actually answered your stupid question. Alright then ummm how about-' _

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco said in a bored drawling noise. For some reason he was feeling quite nervous.

_'Oh goodness me, really?' _The boy thought scathingly to himself. _'It's a really good thing I lost my parents in the crowd otherwise they'd both kill me for this poor excuse of socialization."_

"Really?" The girl sounded dubious, "I thought the wand chooses the wizard." She said in a challenging tone.

"..." Draco chose not to answer.

It was a few seconds before the girl smirked in silent victory.

"Don't worry I was messing with you," She said in a teasing tone.

"Uh, yeah me too…" Draco replied feebly as he silently felt his dignity shrivel up and die once more on the ground.

"...Sooo you play Quidditch at all?" Asked the girl idly.

Draco's head snapped to her in excitement. Finally something interesting to talk about.

"Yes. I don't see why first-years can't have their own brooms, I think it's quite tragic that we're not allowed on the house teams yet. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house. Know what house you'll be in yet?" He rattled off in a monotone voice, which held a hint of excitement if you focused well enough, not even pausing for breath.

The girl blinked a bit before she smiled slightly, "Yeah I think it's a pity too," She said lightly, "I love flying! As for what house? Hm, I'm not sure yet but I know Hufflepuff is not for me, that's for sure." She finished with a slightly dark undertone to her voice which Draco caught easily but didn't speak of.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" Draco said in an attempt to make her feel better, and judging by the small smile on her face it did, "But I just _know _I'll be in Slytherin, all my family has been – I can't imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd just leave!"

She chuckled slightly, "Ah yes, the _'House of Duffers'_ is what they call them, right? I don't think they're quite that bad just… too naïve and trusting of this world." She said with that dark undertone again.

Draco was really fighting the impulse to fidget. He felt that there was a deeper meaning behind her words that he didn't quite understand and that was making him quite uncomfortable. He prided himself on his ability to read people, despite his young age, and for him to not be able to read someone was… quite vexing.

"Oh!" The girl exclaimed having snapped out of her funk, "I totally forgot to introduce myself!"

Draco felt the weird impulse to slap his forehead. If his father _ever_ saw this interaction he'd be dead for sure!

Draco nodded sheepishly instead, "Me too." He extended his hand to her, careful of the needles pinching and prodding at his arms and abdomen, "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The girl looked at him hard for a second before she smiled slightly and clasped his hand firmly, "And my name is Potter. Harriet Potter."

Draco felt his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he smoothed his face back into a mask of self control, "A pleasure," He said as he gave her hand a firm shake, "I must admit, I did not know that the Potters had another child."

The girl snorted sarcastically, "Believe me, me neither," She mumbled a bit bitterly but Draco wasn't one to judge.

Before anymore could be said, Madam Malkin strutted in levitating several packs of clothing behind her, "That's you done, my dear," She told Draco as all the needles that were magically still taking his measurements dropped to the ground limply.

"Oh, alright," the boy said a bit disappointedly, "Well, see you at Hogwarts I suppose."

The girl, Harriet, smiled widely, "Yeah, see you too."


	4. Of Wands and Midnight Thoughts

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**1:01 PM**_

_**~Diagon Ally~**_

Harriet was bored out of her mind. After the boy, Draco, had left she had very little to do. Her new wardrobe was not done yet and, as a consequence, the young girl was _still_ standing and getting measured for some odd reason.

Harriet was just about at the end of her wits when the lady, Madam Malkin, strutted into the room, levitating several clothing packs behind her.

"Alright, now that's _you_ done as well dearie," The lady said as she shrunk the packages so that Harriet can fit them into her pocket.

"Thanks ma'am," Harriet said, ducking her head respectfully.

Madam Malkin beamed, "You're most welcome my dear!"

Harriet nodded once more before she walked out of the store.

She sighed in relief, _'Finally_,' she thought happily, _'All I need to do now, is find the Potters and Henry and then go get my wan-'_

"HARRY!"

Harriet whirled around and was surprised to see her brother sitting by the ice cream stand with their… _parents. _

Alright then.

James and Lily smiled hesitantly at her, as she made her way towards them. Obviously they were still uncomfortable around her.

_'Good,'_ Harriet thought viciously, _'They deserve to be uncomfortable after everything I had to go through.'_

Harriet had barely started to take a seat before the hyperactive ball of sunshine that was her brother began to pester her with chatter.

"Woah, woah, Henry, calm down!" She said, bemused, as her brother settled down, smiling sheepishly.

"Now," started Harriet as she began to eat her ice cream. Mm. Chocolate and chocolate fudge. Henry knew her too well, "What were you saying?"

Henry perked up, "Oh right, I met Ron today!"

Harriet's spoon faltered slightly on the way to her mouth. Luckily, nobody noticed

"Oh?" She said as she shoved another piece of ice cream and fudge into her mouth, "Is that so?" She asked, her speech muffled a bit by the dessert in her mouth.

The boy nodded brightly, "Mhm! He had his whole family with him! They were buying books last time I saw them!"

"Oh…" Harriet said feebly.

It's not like she hated or didn't _lik_e the Weasleys, on the contrary actually, she liked them and liked spending time with some members of the family, _(mainly the twins and Ginny and maybe even Percy whenever she felt like she wanted to discuss books-)_, but Ron was never a favorite of hers.

He wasn't exactly rude, but he was a bit too blunt for his own good. _(He certainly hadn't won her favor when he called her _'weird' _to her face_._) _And well, it probably never ended well for any of them whenever Harry and Ron were in the same vicinity.

It took her a while to realize that her brother was still talking and she immediately snapped out of the confines of her own mind.

"I'm sorry what was that?" She asked her twin sheepishly.

Henry was looking at her in slight concern, "I said you were looking a bit spacey." He leaned a bit towards her in his chair, "Are you okay?"

Harriet smiled slightly in response, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought." She looked at her brother when he made an unconvinced noise, "Honest. Don't worry about me." She ruffled his hair for good measure.

He made a noise of irritation as he attempted to fix his hair in vain. He was smiling nonetheless.

_**August 1st, 1991**_

_**1:20 PM**_

_**~Diagon Ally~**_

They sat for about 20 more minutes, chattering aimlessly about nothing in particular until their parents decided it was time to go.

On the way to Ollivanders, they stopped several times to buy parchment paper, ink, and some new quills along with a beautiful snowy owl for Harriet.

Finally, they entered _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. _It was a narrow, shabby looking shop that had a single wand laying on a faded, dusty purple cushion in an equally dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere inside the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly, dusty chair.

Harriet and Henry felt as though they and entered an extremely strict library where no one was allowed to speak or even breath.

Henry leaned towards Harriet, "This place is giving me the creeps." He muttered.

Harriet snorted softly, careful not to make too much noise, "Agreed."

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice somewhere on Harriet's right. Harriet jumped a bit violently and whirled around only to be met with a pair of silvery, pale eyes.

"Oh…" the mystery man said, "I'm sorry," He tilted his head a bit, "I did not mean to startle you."

Harriet put a hand on her chest as she took slow breaths to calm down. She saw Henry do the same out of the corner of her eye, although he was doubled over on his knees.

Lily and James turned around to greet the man, their politeness overcoming their concern for their children.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Said James extending his hand for the man to firmly shake, "It's been a while."

The man didn't even smile, "It has indeed. I still remember selling you your wand as though it was just yesterday, James Potter. Mahogany. Eleven Inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration." The man turned to Lily, as James smirked and patted the wand holster on his forearm.

"Lily Evans, although I suppose you are called Lily Potter now, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of Willow. Nice for charm work." Lily beamed brightly and patted her robe pocket.

The man turned to the Potter Twins as if he was just noticing them for the first time, "And I see you have two wonderful children in here, as well. " He moved closer to Harriet, and the girl just wished he would blink. Those silver, almost milky, eyes were creepy.

"Tell me young lady," He said, "Which is your wand hand?"

Harriet blinked, "Umm… I'm ambidextrous."

Mr. Ollivander's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Interesting, very interesting. Very few wizards can use both hands young lady, you are turning out to be quite special indeed," the man then turned to Henry, "Ahh, and the famous Boy-who-lived. Tell me, my dear boy, which is your wand hand?"

Henry blinked in a similar manner to his sister and it was quite obvious he was a bit confused and overwhelmed by what was happening, "Ummmm, I'm left handed?"

Mr. Ollivander nodded as though he expected that all along, "Not as rare as ambidextrous wizards but still quite special."

"Alright, young lady hold out both arms. That's it." He measured Harriet from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head.

As he finished measuring up Harriet, and started moving to Henry, Mr. Ollivander started speaking, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. and Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Mr. Ollivander moved away from Henry, flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes, all while leaving the tape measure, which was measuring between Henry's nostrils, to do all the work by itself.

Ollivander nodded seemingly to himself, as Henry cast his amused parents a quick, uncertain glance, before the man spoke, "That will do," He said as the measuring tape crumpled into a heap on the floor.

"Right then, young Mr. Potter," said Ollivander as he grabbed a wand, "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible . Just take it and give it a wave," He said handing Henry the wand but before the boy could even attempt to flick it, Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand from his hand almost at once.

"Maple and Phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –"

Henry tried but he had barely raised the wand before it was snatched from his hand, yet again, by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no- Here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Henry tried, and tried, but he had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands he pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed.

Henry cast another uncertain look at his parents, which was met with looks of amusement laced with light encouragement. He looked at his sister, and was shocked to find that she was smiling. Even more shocking, her smile reached her eyes, which was insane 'cause that never happens, and she gave him a small nod of encouragement.

Looking back at Mr. Ollivander, who was pulling a quite long dusty box out of the shelf, Henry felt determined.

"Could it be- quite strange indeed- I have heard you humming ever since the Potters entered- unusual-" The man kept on muttering as he made his way back to the family.

"Well," Mr. Ollivander said, with quite a bit of uncertainty, "How about we try this one? Quite the unusual combination but still very powerful,"

And with that, Mr. Ollivander pulled a lightly colored wand, "Alder and dragon heartstring. 13 1/2 inches. Unyielding. Would you give it a swish for me, young man?" Said Mr. Ollivander as he handed the wand to Henry, butt first.

Henry reached for the wand, already feeling it humming with magic. It was as if it was specifically made… for _him._

He grasped the wand tightly and felt warmth spread all over his body. It was like dipping into a warm bathtub. Quite surprising but at the same time… Pleasant.

He gave it a simple swish, and golden and red sparks flew from the tip of the wand.

Mr. Ollivander was clapping excitedly, along with his parents. Harriet was clapping politely and bit more reservedly than the other three, but he saw something like happiness and satisfaction in her usually fathomless eyes.

"Excellent! Very excellent, young Mr. Potter!" Mr. Ollivander all but cried, "This wand is capable of many great things. Use it well young man."

Henry grinned as Mr. Ollivander put the wand back in its box and wrapped with brown paper.

"Now," said Mr. Ollivander, "It's young, Ms. Potter's turn."

Harriet's smile turned nervous.

**~25 minutes later~**

Just like her brother, Harriet had an unusually high pile of wands on the spindly chair, however, it seemed like none of the wands liked her or even wanted to pair with her.

Slowly, Harriet began to grow dejected. What if she never found a wand? What if all of them continued to reject her? Maybe she wasn't actually a proper witch, maybe she was a squib, maybe her parents and the Dursleys were right, she was a freak, a nobody, who would never be _special_ and would only serve to be a disappointment to herself and those around her.

As the pile grew larger, James and Lily grew more and more worried. It was quite unusual for someone to not have a wand by now. Merlin, some of the wands were on the floor due to the sheer amount of wands that were tried.

"What do you think James?" Muttered Lily worriedly to her husband.

"It's a bit worrying," He murmured back, "but I'm sure she'll find her wand…" He winced as another wand fizzled and died out, "Eventually."

Mr. Ollivander was the only one not concerned. He was actually quite ecstatic!

"Difficult customer, eh? Don't worry young lady," Mr. Ollivander told the dejected 11 year old as he explored more dusty shelves at the back of the small shop, "We'll find your wand,"

Finally, the old man paused at a certain shelf, "Hmm, could it be?" He said to himself.

Harriet was startled out of her depressing thoughts as Mr. Ollivander all but stuck a wand in her face.

"Try this one, young lady. Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple. Go on, try it out."

Harriet nervously grasped the wand and all of a sudden, all her doubts and nervousness just ebbed away. She felt strangely warm, and could just feel her magic hum contently within her.

Already knowing that this was the wand, Harriet gave the wand a firm swish and very bright green and silver sparks flew from the tip, in a similar manner to her brother's _(if a bit brighter)_.

Harriet smiled in silent relief_,'I _am _a witch after all!' _She thought happily, _'I don't have to go back to the Dursleys!' _

Before she could even start truly drowning in her relief, Henry almost bowled her over with a fierce hug. Harriet tensed a bit, before she forced herself to relax. It's _fine_. It's just Henry. It's safe. _She's_ safe.

"I'm so glad that you finally found your wand, sis!" He all but yelled in her ear as he finally released Harriet.

Harriet grinned back, "I'm glad too! ...And very relieved." She finished as an afterthought.

Henry beamed brightly as Harriet returned her wand to Mr. Ollivander for him to wrap it just like her brother's.

"Curious, very curious," Mr. Ollivander was muttering.

Normally, Harriet would leave him be, but sometimes her curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander looked steadily back at her, as the rest of the Potters gave him similar, inquiring looks.

"I have made and sold many wands in my career, Ms. Potter, and it is quite unprecedented for a phoenix to willingly surrender _two_ feathers at once when they rarely even surrender _one._" The wand-maker paused at the Potters' confused looks.

"However, there was a phoenix that surrendered two feathers this century. One of the feathers, Ms. Potter, went into your own wand," Harriet glanced at her, now wrapped, wand, "And the other, went into the wand that would soon choose You-Know-Who." The Potters gasped melodramatically.

Mr. Ollivander closed his eyes, and then opened them to look steadily at Harriet, "You are capable of many great feats, Ms. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did many great things. Terrible, yes, but great." The man gave her a significant look as he straightened up to look evenly at the elder Potters.

"I believe that will be 7 galleons each, Lord and Lady Potter,"

_**August 2nd, 1991**_

_**12:39 AM**_

_**~Potter Manor~**_

Harriet's eyes were, for some reason, transfixed on the ceiling. No matter how hard she tried, sleep seemed to evade her.

She sighed in irritation, _'Great.'_ She thought sarcastically, in irritation, and got up from bed.

"Might as well," she muttered distractedly.

Before they left the story, Harriet demanded that she get her own wand holster, _(Henry naturally followed her lead saying that, 'It would look cool!')_. The Potter parents had exchanged a look and shrugged.

The Potter parents _also _allowed their children to keep their wands with them. They didn't even attempt to warn them against using their wands before school _(which was suspicious)_.

_Sooooo_, naturally, Harriet decided to make her own research. Turns out that the Trace doesn't officially take place until they set foot in Hogwarts. _Then, _and only _then, _they shall be identified as proper underage witches and wizards and also then does the Trace take effect.

During summer, the school wards notifies the Ministry of Magic of the student leaving so that the Trace could be reactivated as soon as school lets out.

Which _means _that Harriet had plenty of time to practice spells _considering_ the fact that she's not a school student yet, and thus, the Trace doesn't apply!

However, given that she was just an 11 year old with no previous magical schooling, chances of her mastering _any _spells at all before the school term were very little.

But _damn_, if she wasn't gonna _at least __**try**__._

Harriet sighed as she grasped her wand and inspected it carefully. Holly and phoenix feather. Apparently, a phoenix feather whose brother lies in _Voldemort's _bloody wand!

"Great." Harriet muttered bitterly, "Just what I needed, another connection to flipping _Voldemort_!" She absentmindedly rubbed her lightning scar in frustration. The scar went through her right eyebrow, and had subjected her to endless teasing from her year-mates, _cousin_, and lovely _aunt _and _uncle._

She did like it though. It was the only thing within her entire appearance that looked cool or even remotely different from her general plainness.

It was still a connection to the man who ruined her life.

Harriet sighed in irritation.

Figures, this would be her _life_. She smiled humorlessly and began practicing the wand movements for one of the most simple charms wizards have succeeded in creating, all while muttering the incantation.

_**'Lumos.'**_


End file.
